


Harry Riddle and the Song of Death

by Everything4Everyone



Series: Harry Riddle [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: DarkHarry, Gen, Multi, SlytherinHarry, creatureharry, dumbledorebashing, weasleybashing, wrongboywholived
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 16:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18781837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everything4Everyone/pseuds/Everything4Everyone
Summary: Book #1Hadrian Charles Riddle was born unique. He never cried or screamed, just sat quietly in his crib, watching everybody with very adult-looking eyes.Until the attack.In one night, two lives were sent to the void, one was lost forever, and one was changed forever.Lacinda Cheyenne Riddle nee Fairfield and James Harold Riddle were sent to the void, or beyond, as they called it.Richard Brutus Riddle was lost forever to all that had ever loved him.Hadrian (Harry) Charles Riddle was changed forever.Harry lives an excruciating life with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. They delight in torturing him in all the ways they can.Until Harry receives a letter and is sent to Twisted Spiral School of Sorcery. There, he will learn about the arts of sorcery and is put into more danger than anyone in history has ever been put in before.I do not own Harry Potter. This is just a spinoff. It is an extreme au, set in a different country with different names. I only own the plot and OCs.





	1. The True and False Children of Prophesy

Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson were proud to say that they were perfectly ordinary, thank you very much. They were not the sort of people that you would expect to be mixed up in anything even slightly out of the ordinary, simply because they didn't believe in that nonsense. However, the Jeffersons had a secret. They didn't think they could bear it if anybody found out what they had kept behind closed doors,if anybody found out about the Riddles. 

Mrs. Riddle was Mrs. Jefferson's younger sister, but the two were as alike as up and down. Completely different. In fact, they didn't even look alike. 

Susan Jefferson née Fairfield had long blonde hair that she dyed every Sunday, was skinnier than a branch, had small, greedy blue eyes, very fair skin without blemishes, and the intelligence of a crow. 

Her husband, Dave Jefferson, had less than half of the intelligence of his wife, had almost no neck at all, was fatter than an average sized refrigerator, and dark skin.

They had a one-year-old son named Juarez Bacardi Jefferson. He had blond hair, blue piggy eyes, fair skin, and was about the size of a large beach ball, and in his parents' opinion, there was no finer child anywhere to be found.

However, Lacinda Riddle née Fairfield was almost a total opposite. She had long, fiery red hair that was fiercely curly, brilliant doe-shaped kaleidoscope eyes, peach skin, and was of average weight. She had the most brilliant intelligence of anybody in her schools, both Muggle and Magical, and refused to cheat.

Her husband, James Riddle, was not like her, but they matched perfectly. He was, first and foremost, a trickster, but he was also an amazing friend, and a staunch supporter in what he believed was right. He had dark brown hair and the most vibrant green eyes that you could find anywhere. He was much thinner than the average man, often called skinny. He was not above cheating at anything that he actually had to work at, but would never turn against his wife or friends.

They had two sons. Despite being twins, the two boys were very different, and at eleven months old, had already developed very different personalities.

Richard Riddle had his mother's fiery red hair and his father's green eyes. He was a rather ordinary child that cried when he wanted something and behaved nicely the rest of the time.

Harry Riddle had dark, near-black chocolate hair, and vibrant green eyes with kaleidoscope specks and patterns. He was smaller than his brother and weighed several pounds less. However, he was no ordinary boy. He never cried or screamed, just sat quietly in his crib, watching everyone with very adult-looking eyes. He always seemed to understand what he was being told, even at the tender age of eleven months. He was a little creepy, but he was loved.

* * *

 

Dave Jefferson grunted as he clipped on his most boring tie. He hoped that there would be some good reasons to shout at people today at work. 

Walking into the kitchen, where Mrs. Jefferson was attempting to feed Juarez, who was throwing food at the walls. He kissed her goodbye and attempted to do the same to Juarez, but he was now screaming his brains out. "Little tyke, you gonna grow up and be a strong man, huh?" He asked his squalling offspring as he left. 

As he opened the door of his silver car and got in, he had a strange feeling that he was being watched. He turned around. There was nothing but a cat reading a map. He blinked. The map was gone, and there was an ordinary cat sitting on his garden bench. He sighed. "Must have been a trick of the light." He muttered, pulling out of the driveway. 

As he left the street, his mind was fixed on the large order of knives that he was hoping to get that day. Mr. Jefferson worked at Onix'd Inc, which made all kinds of knives.

 However, as he waited at a red light, he noticed something that took his mind right off of knives. Large groups of people were standing around, gossiping in hushed voices. Each and every one of them wore a cloak and a robe. Mr. Jefferson frowned at them. "Fundraisers and stunts." He muttered disapprovingly, refusing to think about the _other_ meaning of cloaks. 

Ten minutes later, he was in the driveway of Onix'd INC, his mind back on knives and firmly off of people in cloaks and fundraisers.

Since Mr. Jefferson sat with his back to the window, he missed the storm of faintly glowing, almost-white creatures outside. The sky was full of them. The streets were full of people pointing with gaping mouths at the millions of wisps in the air. Most of them believed that wisps only existed in fairytales for children.

Mr. Jefferson, however, had a nice, normal, wisp-free morning. He shouted at sixteen different people, made several important phone call, and shouted a lot more.

He was in a very good mood until his lunch break, when he decided to walk across the road and buy himself a pie or three. 

He had completely forgotten about the cloaked strangers until he passed a group of them near the bakery. As he passed them, he eyed them suspiciously, but they were too involved in whatever they were talking/gossiping about to give him a second glace.

As Mr. Jefferson headed back to work, clutching a bag with several pies in it rather tightly, he heard a few snippets of the strangers' gossip. "Yes, yes, that's what I've heard." "The Riddles?" "Yes, their son Richard." "What about the other boy?" "Eh, he isn't important."

Mr. Jefferson stopped dead. His heart filled with dread and his bones turned to lead. He stood there, shaking, staring at the group, unable to move or comprehend what he had just heard.

After a couple of minutes, he found the strength to dash back to his office and dial his home number before he stopped. Thought. He must be being stupid. There were plenty of people named Riddle. It was quite a common name, and so was Richard. Cloaks do not mean _them_. And anyway, his wife's sister and her husband had another son. What was his name again? Howard? Harvey? Harold? Hayden? Hector? Oh well, it isn't important anyway. 

Settled, he sat down and waited for a very important phone call.

* * *

 

After Mr. Jefferson got off of work at 4:35 PM, he hurried out the door . . . straight into a stranger wearing a violet cloak. Seeing this, Mr. Jefferson drew himself to his full height of five feet six inches and prepared to shout at the violet-cloaked stranger. Said stranger, however, was delighted.

 "Dear sir!" He cried, clasping Mr. Jefferson's large hands with his own small ones. "Do not be so glum! Even Muggles like yourself should be rejoicing this happy, happy day!" Then he hugged Mr. Jefferson around his waist, or tried to, at least; his hands didn't even fit around a quarter of Mr. Jefferson's waist and vanished. 

Mr. Jefferson stood rooted to the spot. He had just been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought that he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was.

Rattled, he hurried to his car and promptly drove all the way to 9 Private Drive, Dixon, MN, 33951.

Upon arrival at his house, he spotted that same cat from earlier sitting on the bench. The cat was tortoiseshell, with black spectacle shapes around its eyes. "Shoo! Shoo!" He said loudly. The cat just gave him a stern look. He wondered if this was normal cat behavior. Shaken, he hurried inside, determined not to mention anything to his wife.

He walked into a madhouse. There were toys flying all over the place, food on the walls and ceiling, Juarez was kicking his mother over and over again, and the TV was on.

Smiling slightly at the sight, he walked over to the television set, intending to turn it off, but found himself listening to Bob McGuire, the news reporter, give a report on the swarm of wisps that had taken until noon to disperse. 

"I understand that most of you believed that wisps were just fairy tales for young children, but the large swarm of them that lasted from 8:00 to 12:00 over the country proved most of us wrong. The wisp swarm seems to be related to a number of strangely dressed people around the country, downpours of shooting stars over all of the major towns in the country, as well as in many small towns around them. And now, over to Ted with the weather." 

Ted Desprisco, the weatherman, came onscreen and began talking. "Now, I know that I said that we'd be getting rain tonight, but instead of rain, we are getting downpours of sparkles, shooting stars, wisps, fireworks, and all sorts of other amazing things. It isn't Christmas for five more weeks, folks!" He continued with a report about silver and gold rain, but Mr. Jefferson did not hear a word of it. He just sat there, staring blankly at the screen.

Several minutes later, after Mrs. Jefferson put Juarez to bed, she walked up to her husband and slapped him. Hard. He blinked, then followed her up to bed. 

Just before he fell asleep, he asked his wife, "Hey, what's the name of your sister's creepy brat?" She barely roused herself to mutter, "Harry. And a common, nasty name it is, too." 

Mr. Jefferson would have agreed, but he was asleep, and his wife was too.

But, although the Jeffersons were fast asleep, the cat outside showed no inclination to do the same. In fact, she showed no inclination to move, either. In fact, she did not move at all until midnight, despite numerous backfires, screams, fireworks, explosions, and other loud noises.

A man suddenly appeared on the street at precisely five minutes after midnight. He had long, flowing, silver hair tucked into his belt, a silver beard even longer, and he wore long blue robes and crooked half-moon glasses over twinkling blue eyes. His nose looked to have been broken at least twice. His name was Albus Dumbledore. 

Albus didn't seem to know that he had set foot in a place where everything from his name to his shoes was unwelcome.

He rummaged around for a moment, then pulled a stick from his pocket, and whispered, "Lux Obscurus!" At once, all the lights on the street disappeared except for the lights inside the buildings.

Having plunged the street into complete darkness, Albus walked over to the Jeffersons' front yard. 

Upon seeing the cat, he forced a rather painful looking smile on his face, and said, "Surprised to see you here, Minerva."

As he spoke, the cat morphed into a tall, severe-looking woman with emerald eyes and gray hair in a tight bun. 

She replied, "Rubeus told me that he was bringing the younger twin here. He said that you have a place for the poor boy."

To his credit, Albus's face spoke of nothing but grief. "Yes. I've come to take him to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now, apart from Richard."

"You can't!" Minerva cried, jumping up from the bench.  "I've been watching these people all day, Albus, and trust me, this is no place to raise any child, not even You-Know-Who's own!"

Albus gently replied, "It is the only place left for him now, Minerva. After all, do you want him to be raised in the shadow of his brother?" 

At Minerva's shake of her head, he continued "We don't want or need a jealous sibling on our hands. Harry will live a peaceful life here, while Richard learns what being the Boy-Who-Lived means with the Weaselbys. They will both grow up happy and contented, then they can reunite at Twisted Spiral in a few years."

Minerva hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. "So... It's true then? James and Lacinda Riddle are really... dead?"

Albus nodded, his face engraved with sorrow. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a motorcycle roared overhead, and headlights shone on them, just before a giant motorcycle landed in front of them. Seated on the motorcycle was a giant man. He had a wild bushy beard that tangled with his wild hair. He was clutching a small red bundle in his massive arms.

"Ah, Rubeus. I was beginning to worry," Albus lied smoothly.

"Ach, don' you go abou' worryin' abou' me, or li'l Harry 'ere. I'll take good care of 'im, Professor." Rubeus said, taking off his flight goggles.

"I trust you, Rubeus." Albus said calmly.

"Ah've gotten 'im 'ere, Professors. 'E fell asleep jus' now."Rubeus said, showing them a sleeping baby with dark brown hair.

Albus nodded solemnly. "I'll take him now, Rubeus." 

"C-can I jus' say g-goodbye firs', Albus?" 

When Albus nodded, Rubeus hugged Harry gently, slipping a bracelet onto the child's left wrist as he did so. The bracelet vanished as soon as it touched Harry's skin, and Rubeus relaxed, knowing that he was able to at least help his godson survive some of the hard years ahead. "Goodbye, Harry." He whispered softly, before handing the boy to Albus, who took him solemnly.

Albus carried to boy over to the Jeffersons' door, and left him there, with a note tucked into his blanket. "It's time to go." He said, before vanishing with a murmur of "Lanuae Magicae."

Rubeus got on his motorbike, but before he left, he turned to Minerva, and told her "Give the poor lad a li'l trinket or somfin', to help him survive. An' don' tell Albus."

And thenhe flew off, leaving Minerva to stare after him, dumbfounded. Then she smiled and walked over to Harry, bent down, and slipped a bracelet that looked identical to the one that  Rubeus had given him onto his right wrist. She softly whispered, "Use it well, Harry Riddle, the true Boy-Who-Lived." Then she vanished as well, with a murmur of "Lanuae Magicae," and was gone. 

Harry opened his eyes as soon as the woman left.  
"I think I'll do just that, Minnie."

 


	2. Merlin's Snake!

The sun rose on Private Drive to see it looking exactly like it had looked on that fateful day ten years ago. It saw the same neat gardens, the same prim, interchangeable houses, and the same fancy and spotless cars.

Nine Private Drive hadn't changed any more than its neighbors. In fact, the pictures on the wall were the only indication that any time had passed at all. Ten years ago, there had been a lot of pictures of what looked like an extremely large pink peach ball dressed in clothes that any self-respecting child should never wear. But Juarez Jefferson was no longer an infant, and the pictures now showed a gorilla-like child with blond hair going to the state fair with his parents, birthdays, Christmases, eating ice cream, hanging out with friends. There was no sign at all that there was another child in the house. There were only three chairs at the table, only one backpack hanging on the door, only three coats in the closet, only three pairs of shoes by the door.

Yet Harry Riddle was still there, lying asleep, though not for long.

"Up! Get up, you damned freak! UP!" Harry woke up on the first shrill note, wincing in pain. Blood began to trickle out of one of his ears as she finished screeching. His Aunt Susan rapped sharply on the door, before walking away. He could hear her putting a frying pan on the stove and bacon sizzling.

He sat up slowly, savoring the dream that he'd had. It'd been a memory, one of the ones from the womb. His first awareness. It was what he dreamed of the most. Darkness. Warmth. Safety. Love. A hand on him. His parents' soothing voices.

"Are you up yet, _freak_? You know that you have to be up in two minutes. And don't you _dare_ let that bacon burn." Harry smiled. Aunt Susan always tried to control him by giving him an extra minute, limiting punishments, and other tricks. It might have worked if he was someone else, but Harry was intricately woven into the world and her magic. He was special, and he couldn't be tricked by such simple means.

Harry heard her walk away again and sighed. He had been with the Jeffersons for ten years, ten painful, miserable years. If it hadn't been for the memories that he watched every night in his sleep, he knew that he would have broken long ago, even with the help of the world.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. The sound of Uncle Dave coming down the stairs echoed in Harry's ears. He hurriedly ran into the kitchen, not bothering to open the doors, instead running straight through them. He quickly took the burnt bacon off the stove, magicking it perfect, as well as toast, eggs, and Pop-Tarts. He put three plates on the table and backed away into a corner just as the Jeffersons entered.

Uncle Dave and Juarez sat down instantly, their weight making the chairs buckle. Aunt Susan poked around a bit, then, reassured that Harry hadn't broken, stained, cracked, or chipped anything, she sat down. Juarez, instead of eating, began counting presents.

His face fell. "Eighty-nine. That's three less than last year."

Harry, sensing a tantrum coming, prepared to grab the plates off the table, just in case Juarez decided to flip it again. The Jeffersons hated it when their food fell on the floor, and he always got punished for it. Perhaps Aunt Susan sensed this as well, for she quickly said "And we'll buy you eight more today, okay, sweetums? Eight more?"

Juarez started thinking. Harry could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears. It was amusing. "So I'll have ninety...ninety..." He said slowly. "Ninety-seven, sugarsweetie. Ninety-seven." Aunt Susan cooed. Harry wanted to roll his eyes. She called Juarez by the most ridiculous names, and nearly all of them had to do with something sweet. Why, Harry didn't know, as Juarez was far from sweet. The farthest thing from it, in fact. You'd have to be insane to call Juarez 'sweet.'

"I guess that'd be okay..." Juarez finally muttered. Aunt Susan beamed. "You're so sweet, sugarcube!"

Then again, the Jeffersons weren't exactly sane.

Juarez pulled a large present over to him and started attempting to open it and eat as much food as possible at one time. "Li'l tyke wants his money's worth, eh? Wants both food and gifts. "Good man, Juarez, good man." Uncle Dave chortled, slapping his shapeless hands on his equally shapeless great fat belly.

Harry shuddered in disgust, hastening to finish the dishes so he could go back to his room. Uncle Dave disgusted him more than anything else. He'd rather swallow a bucket of live maggots, swim in a sea of leeches, get raped by a dementor, and come face-to-face with a rotting corpse that had been killed in a gruesome way than willingly stay in a room with him for longer than he had to.

Harry put the last dish away and turned to his aunt. "Is there anything else you'd like me to do, ma'am?" Aunt Susan looked personally offended. "No, you _freak_. Now go away!"

Harry gladly hurried out of the room, sliding into his room. He heard the door lock behind him and sighed in relief, before looking around his room. Well, it really wasn't much a room. In fact, it wasn't a room at all.

Harry slept in the cupboard under the stairs.

It wasn't bad, in fact, it was his favorite place to be. It was small, so small in fact that he couldn't stand up, and was no more than three feet in any direction. One wall was a shelf, one that contained nothing but spiders, cleaning supplies, dust, and dried blood.

That was all the room contained. The door had a vent in it that Harry could use to look out and also let in some light, which Harry used to move around safely. The floor was made of wood. The walls were made of wood. The roof was made of wood. The shelves were made of wood. The cleaning supplies were outdated by almost eleven years. There was a small sack for Harry to sleep in.

None of the Jeffersons could even get close to fitting. That was Harry's favorite thing about the cupboard. As long as he was in it, he was safeish, and that was safer than anything else he'd get around here.

Harry sat down and pulled a book out of what he called his 'locker dimension', and began reading. His locker dimension was simply a place that both was and wasn't, a place both here and there, a place to put and take stuff. It was an area of folded air, that you could and couldn't touch, that you could put stuff in and take stuff out of but couldn't touch or feel or see. Harry kept everything that he wasn't supposed to have there. Nobody else could access it, much less Ungifted and Muggles like the Jeffersons.

Gifted or Sorcerers were those that had magic.  
Ungifted were those who didn't, often called Squibs.  
Muggles were unmagical folk.

Harry could do sorcery. He didn't claim to be any good at it. After all, he was almost eleven years old and he could only do nonverbal, wordless, and wandless spells up to Voldemort's level. He wasn't even up to Albus Dumbledore's level yet, which was a huge disappointment. He wanted to reach the level of Merlin by the time he finished school, and yet he wasn't even at the level of Albus Dumbledore yet.

Unfortunately, he only used spells when he had to, as Albus could track those with the underage Trace. Anybody not yet of age who had magic was put under a magical trace when they were born so that their parents or magical guardian could always find them.

And Albus had stolen his Trace when he'd left him at the Jeffersons. Called himself Harry's magical guardian, a title which really should have belonged to one of his numerous godparents, and not the headmaster of a school that he would not have attended if he'd had a choice, and therefore had the Trace bound to him. He also claimed to be Richard's magical guardian and got Richard's Trace, which was utter bullshit, as Richard also had numerous godparents who would be thrilled to watch over him. Besides, who said that they were going to Twisted Spiral?

Twisted Spiral often forced children to come to it instead of other schools. They claimed to be the only magic school for Muggle-born and Muggle-raised children and often forced Gifted and Creature children to come.

Harry and Richard's parents had found ways to get out of the mandatory attendance, but they were all rendered void by their death, and Richard was being raised by Albus Dumbledore's followers, and Harry was muggle-raised.

Mandatory attendance.

Harry closed the book gently, before putting the book back in his locker dimension. Uncle Dave was going to call him in a minute, and having forbidden items was a definite way to get a beating.

Sure enough, a minute later Uncle Dave's voice thundered through the house, shaking it to the foundations. "BOY! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? GET TO THE LIVING ROOM, _NOW_!"

Harry darted to the living room as quickly as possible, knocking once as he entered. The Jeffersons often couldn't tell when he was in the room. He didn't make any noise, and he didn't speak. In fact, most people never knew that he was in the room.

Nobody had ever known that he was there.

Aunt Susan had ordered him to knock once before entering any room with people in it so that he couldn't pull any of what she referred to as his 'freaky otherworldly vanishing tricks'.

Harry entered the room. Juarez looked absolutely disbelieving as if he couldn't believe what was happening. Aunt Susan looked exasperated, and Harry wouldn't have been surprised if she started screaming. Uncle Dave's face was engraved with rage, his usual emotion.

"Get in the car, freak. Miss Porpoise broke her leg, and can't take you this time." Aunt Susan snapped. Harry's heart leapt, but he said nothing.

As Aunt Susan lead Juarez to the car, Uncle Dave took Harry aside. "I warn you, boy, one thing goes wrong, and you'll be in that cupboard until the summer holidays start! _Do you understand me_?" Harry nodded, silently following Aunt Susan to the car. Of course something would go wrong, but it was worth it, just to go outside.

Harry wasn't allowed outside. He missed it horribly.

Harry got into the backseat of the car, claiming the seat by the window. Juarez, who hated windows, covered his with a cloth and sat back with his Ipad. Harry looked out the window hungrily. He so rarely got to go outside, or to go anywhere, in fact, that even the short trip felt wonderful. Seeing houses that didn't all look exactly the same, seeing green that wasn't in a perfectly cultivated garden, seeing people who weren't extremely rich, it all felt so amazing.

Harry hadn't been outside more than a handful of times in his life. Before his parents had died, they had been in hiding, therefore unable to take him and his brother out of the house often, and the Jeffersons didn't want him outside. They were terrified of what might happen if they let him out. They rarely even let him look outside.

When the car stopped, Harry was the last one out. They were at the city zoo, which was admittedly neither large nor good, but it was where Juarez had wanted to go.

Harry followed behind the Jeffersons silently. They passed giraffes (three), camels (four), birds (sixty-seven), a gorilla scratching its butt that would have looked exactly like Juarez if it was the size of a whale and blond, and an elephant before Juarez started whining. "I want to see the snakes! Where are the snakes!"

Instantly, they turned to the snake house, a simple room with panes of glass covering the walls, each with a snake behind it. Juarez immediately went to the biggest snakes, while Harry looked at the long but small snakes. Aunt Susan and Uncle Dave followed one step behind Juarez, watching over his every move, actions that, in Harry's mind, would be appropriate if Juarez was just learning how to walk. They spoiled the brat rotten. They babied him. He could barely function in his own house, much less in the real world.

But of course, you can never blame the children for what was their parents' fault. That would be wrong.

A flash of purple caught Harry's eye, and he turned. It was a snake of average size and length and was most definitely poisonous. But the most interesting thing about her was that she had scales that were galaxy colored. A color that was most definitely not from the Muggle world, with only one recorded case in the Magical world.

Merlin's own favored snake, his sacred familiar, the mystical galaxy serpent, Galia. The last one in existence, at least in this galaxy. The proud contractor, the mysterious benefactor, the deadly killer. Galia of the Galaxy.

 _"What is one such as you doing in a place like this?"_ Harry wondered aloud in Zmijski Jezik, the snake language. The snake, Galia, hissed in surprise, baring sharp, poisonous fangs.

"Out of the way, freak!" Juarez cried, barging his way into Harry, knocking the smaller boy to the ground and making his way to Galia's cage. "Mom! Dad! I want this snake! Buy him for me _right now_!"

The instant Harry's small frame smashed against the ground, the snakes went wild. They banged ferociously against the glass until it smashed, then flooded Juarez, biting, wrapping, strangling, whatever they could do, because how dare this _human_ hurt this child, this child born of magic and raised of magic, who could speak their tongue and live amongst them, who would heal this world's wounds and serve his purpose to the best of his ability. How _dare_ he even _think_ of harming this child, this gift, this treasure, Magic's own sacred child, given to the world as a precious gift. How dare he scorn the gift that he was given, going so far as to hurt and damage! This was too far!

Harry laid on the ground, stunned. The snakes had come to his defense. No one had ever done anything like that for him before, at least not willingly. He didn't even know why. Why help him? He was a nobody, after all.

In all the commotion, nobody noticed Galia slide up Harry's sleeve.

Suddenly, a great meaty fist came down on the front of Harry's shirt, harshly yanking him up. He felt Galia nearly tumble, and he worried for her as he was pulled right up into his uncle's furious face. "Oh, you've done it now, freak. Attacking my son, in public? Using your freakish powers, in public, on _my_ son? When we get home..."

Uncle Dave dropped Harry on the ground, joining in on the effort to save his son.

Harry watched silently as they dug Juarez out, calling an ambulance and putting him on the stretcher and taking him to the hospital. He'd survive. Harry, on the other hand, wasn't sure that he himself would survive.

He'd never be truly sure.

The car drive home was short, what with Uncle Dave speeding, cutting red lights, and taking shady shortcuts. Juarez was still in the hospital. Galia writhed in discomfort against Harry's shoulder.

As the car pulled into the driveway, Uncle Dave jumped out, not even turning the engine off, grabbed Harry's arm, and pulled him inside. Aunt Susan followed right behind, shutting all the windows and closing the blinds.

A beating, then. He could deal with those. They were extremely common. There was usually at least one a day.

Aunt Susan left, closing the door and locking it. So, more than just a beating, huh? Since Juarez had been hurt, this would probably be horrible.

Harry watched his uncle quietly as the man descended on him, a malicious grin on his twisted face.

* * *

 

After Harry was sent to his cupboard, he collapsed. He struck the ground hard and couldn't get back up. He'd been right. Today was one of the worst punishments he'd ever had. He doubted that he'd be able to walk for several days.

Slowly, wincing, Harry sat up, leaning heavily against the wall. He couldn't even sit up. Uncle Dave really had gone hard on him.

Galia slithered out of his sleeve. She had seen the entire thing. _"What was that,_ _Zvučnik_ _?"_ Harry slowly, painfully, shrugged. _"That was my uncle. He doesn't like me, in fact, he hates me. As you can probably tell, I got in trouble today. As you can imagine, I usually try to stay out of trouble."_

Harry gently ran his fingers down Galia's spine. She arched her back in pleasure. Harry's fingers wove together with the scales of her back. _"So, how did one such as you end up in a place like that?"_

Galia looked ashamed, embarrassed. _"As you probably know, I was the familiar of the great Merlin himself. It went to my head. When he died, I was too prideful to take a partner that I did not consider good enough. And since nobody in the Magical world could be Merlin's equal, I was all alone. I mocked the most powerful sorcerers of their times and belittled their achievements."_

She sighed. _"I was picky. I'd started with the best, and wouldn't stand for anything less. But soon, people stopped coming. I'd turned them all down. Just like that, I was all alone, surrounded by enemies. One thing led to another and I was taken by Muggles."_

She took a deep breath in. _"But I've let some of that pride go, and I'd be pleased as your familiar. I don't have anywhere left to go."_ Harry's eyes widened. _"But I thought that you turned down everyone else!"_

Galia hissed, annoyed. _"Well, none of them broke me out of prison and saved my life! I owe you a debt of gratitude at the very least. Besides..."_ She looked sheepish, _"There's nobody else willing to bond with me. I literally turned down every Sorcerer in five different countries."_

Harry nodded his consent. Without hesitation, Galia plunged her fangs into his right shoulder. Her fangs sank deep, past the bone. Harry would have worried if he'd been anyone else. He knew that a bite or slash was necessary for the bonding ritual, and it didn't hurt. Well, not compared to anything else. It hurt some, but to Harry, it was extremely dull, the pain of a small scrape, barely even worth noting.

Galia's body slowly started to slide into his shoulder, melding with his skin. Her coloring stained his skin like ink, her body forming a bloody tattoo. Soon all that was left was the moving and speaking tattoo of the familiar of Merlin, but with golden streaks running down her galaxy body (1).

Now she could enter and leave his body at will, easily sliding into his skin to become a tattoo of herself, or slipping out to become flesh and blood. She and her tattoo were exactly the same. She could move inside his body with impunity and ease, moving from his shoulder to his neck to his leg, or leave it to attack or feed, or simply to explore or run an errand. They could be one or separate.

Galia slid out of Harry's shoulder, twisting around to truly look at her master for the first time.

Harry was skinny, far too skinny. He was wearing clothes that were way too big for him, and a belt that had holes cut into it because even the smallest holes were too big. He looked tiny. You could count every single bone on his body if you looked enough.

He had dark brown, almost black, hair, and one vibrant green eyes with kaleidoscope specks float in around inside. The other eye was covered by a patch, but Galia caught a hint of silver near the edge, where the whites should be.

His face was delicate, small, almost girlish. He looked just like his mother. His body structure was like hers as well, only thinner, weaker, and younger.

Galia looked for another minute before flowing back into Harry's skin. She had a new master now. Merlin was a thing of the past.

She decidedly ignored the horrible injuries that covered his skin, deciding to ask about them later, once she got to know him a bit better.

  
(1) Familiars take on streaks on their body the color of their partner's soul. When their partner dies or leaves them, the marks fade away into nothing. 

 


End file.
